by Sam Ferguson
“Well then, what have you got to tell me?” Erik asked.
The bird dipped its glowing head toward Erik. Erik reached out and put a hand upon the bird. A series of images flashed through his mind. He saw the dead bodies. He saw the claw marks in the secret hallway. He saw Njar and Minrielle standing over another body. Next he saw a small city from a bird’s-eye-view and the words Winter’s Beak came into his mind. The feeling of urgency from Minrielle was overwhelming. Erik digested the distress call and then backed away from the bird.
He had never known so many other sahale existed. To find out about them in this way flipped his stomach and he nearly retched on the floor.
The message ended and the bird chirped once, raising its head to look at Erik with beady black eyes.
Erik nodded. “Tell her I’m coming,” he said. “I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
After Erik sent the Night Hawk back with his response, he turned and went for the door. He stretched out his hand and pulled the portal open only to find Shermin approaching, holding a small bucket of water.
“I felt a disturbance, is everything all right?” Shermin asked.
Erik nodded. It was uncanny how Shermin was so tuned in to his surroundings when he was on duty as his watcher for the night. “I have received some disturbing news from my homeland, I will need to leave as soon as possible.”
Shermin’s face grew long and the monk sighed. “The demon will not come for another two months. If you do not stay to fight him, then he will continue to demand sacrifices.” Shermin’s eyes welled with tears. “If we refuse his sacrifice, then he will destroy our monastery, and he will ravage our library. All of the knowledge we have accumulated will be lost forever.”
“I understand,” Erik said.
“When there is a champion willing to fight, then the demon is appeased when he defeats them. But, if no champion comes to our aid, then the demon’s mercy can only be purchased by sacrifice. The last two times he has come, no one has been willing to fight. We were able to buy our way out by sacrificing two bulls and three goats, but he warned us last time that he would need a human, or else he would come for the monastery.”
Erik nodded. “I am not leaving before facing the demon,” he said resolutely.
Shermin sighed in relief and stepped forward to fall upon Erik’s shoulders with his hands. “Oh, thank you, Master Lokton, thank you!”
Master Lokton. He was still not used to the title. “Call me Erik,” he told Shermin for the thousandth time.
Shermin nodded and patted Erik’s shoulders. “Of course, of course,” the monk said. Erik knew that the man had no real intention of speaking with him so informally. “Thank you, again, for staying. If the demon were to ever get his hands on what he seeks, then it would mean destruction for many people in these parts.”
“So you have said,” Erik replied evenly. Shermin had told Erik of a magical spell used to banish the demon long before. While it did allow for the demon to return to this plane once every seven months, it did keep the monster trapped in an alternate plane the rest of the time. It also protected the monastery from direct assault, but the magic was growing weaker now. As the years had passed, the protections it afforded were decaying, allowing the demon to come ever closer as it grew stronger. If the demon ever got its hands on the book, then the spell would be broken entirely, and it would be allowed to reenter this world, free to wreak havoc as it pleased. “I will not be staying long,” Erik said.
Shermin squinted at him, confused. “But, you just said you would face the demon?”
Erik nodded. “There is another way to fight him.”
Shermin shook his head. “No, to speak his name would break the banishing spell.”
“Only if I failed to slay him,” Erik said.
“No, I cannot allow such a reckless decision,” Shermin said with his hands up in the air. “No. It mustn’t be done!”
“If you give me his name, I can summon him forth. Then, I will kill him. You do believe that I am the one spoken of in your prophecy, do you not?”
“It isn’t a matter of belief,” Shermin argued.
“Yes it is,” Erik said. “Everything is a matter of faith. In times of trial, we must step into the darkness, full of courage, and void of doubt and fear.” Erik smiled as Shermin sighed.
“You have learned much since coming here,” Shermin said. “You must understand, that if you summon him, and he overpowers you, then he will be free in this plane. We have guarded his name since his banishment. We have gone to great lengths to ensure that no one outside of these hallowed walls could ever whisper his name.”
“I have slain dragons and demons before,” Erik said. “I will not let you down.”
“Pride goeth before the fall,” Shermin replied, quoting one of the monastery’s famous proverbs.
Erik nodded. “It isn’t pride to know your own strength,” he said. “To know thy enemy is wise, but to know thyself is true power,” Erik said, quoting another proverb used in the monastery.
Shermin nodded solemnly. “I will have to confer with the others. The decision to give you the name must be unanimous. If even one monk refuses, then you cannot have the name.”
“I understand,” Erik said. “Shall I go with you?”
Shermin shook his head. “No, I will go. Please, rest for tonight. In the morning, you shall have your answer.”
Erik nodded and returned to his room.
As he laid down to sleep, he heard a fluttering of wings at the window. He looked up and saw a large, black raven. His heart skipped a beat. He had not seen a raven at his window for many years. The first time had been as a young teenage boy. The raven had come and tapped at the window to warn him of an impending attack. Since that night, he had hated ravens. Over the last several years, he had even gone out of his way to kill ravens he found along his travels. Killing the messengers of death was his way of trying to hold the evil at bay and maybe, just maybe, preventing a raven from ever lighting upon his window sill again.
Apparently, despite his best efforts, it hadn’t been as effective as he had hoped.
“Don’t you dare tap on my widow,” Erik snarled as he sat up quickly and threw his hands out to scare the bird.
The raven caw-cawed at him and then tilted its head. It was not about to fly away. It hopped twice to the side of the window and then tapped on the stone. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. Pause. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
“NO!” Erik shouted as he charged the raven. The bird launched away into the night.
It was never a good omen to see the raven at the window, but so close on the heels of the Night Hawk, surely the two had to be connected. Erik closed his eyes and tried to remember the meaning of different sets of taps. He knew the pause in the middle was a break before repeating the message. The first time he had seen the raven at his home in Lokton Manor, there had been sets of three taps.
Three taps meant that death came for you, but could be averted.
The memory of the first real battle he had ever experienced came flooding back into his mind. Blacktongues had ravaged his home. They were merciless in their marauding. He had been their target, but they had not cared about other lives either. That had been the first time he had killed a man. He had died defending old Louis and his wife from a savage Blacktongue. Even now, after experiencing many other battles, it was the first one that still clung to the back of his mind like a shadow, ever following him.
He shook his head and forced his mind to think about the raven.
Four taps meant that the recipient of the raven’s message would die that night.
Five taps mean that someone in the household would die.
What was six taps? He paced back and forth for a moment, exhaustion from his hours of study stalling his efforts to remember the meaning. He closed his eyes and tapped his forehead six times, recreating the raven’s message.
“Six taps… six taps,” Erik whispered to himself.
A knock came at the door.
“Enter,” Erik said.
“I was busy with the others, and then I heard you shouting,” Shermin said. “Are you all right, Master Lokton?”
Erik shook his head. “A raven came to the window.”
Shermin put two fingers to the sides of his mouth and spat on the floor. “Ravens at the window are an ill omen,” he said decisively.
“Do you recall what six taps means?”
“A set of six, are you sure?” Shermin asked.
Erik nodded. “Positive.”
Shermin shook his head and his shoulders drooped. “I am sorry, Master Lokton, but it means that one of your friends will be killed tonight.”
*****
Braun woke from a dream and set his feet on the cold, marble floor of Lokton Manor. The large man went to his window and peered outside. The two guards on patrol were just passing by as he watched. A quiet, silvery mist was creeping over the fields beyond the stone half-wall. The moon was full and bright, bathing the entire area in soft light.
The large man turned and slipped his boots on. As House Lokton’s Man-at-arms, he was never one to be caught unawares, so he always slept in trousers and a tunic that covered him well enough to handle anything that would arise on short notice in the night. He grabbed his sword belt and latched it around his waist, and then he exited his room. He looked down the hallway and sighed as he saw the doors to Trenton and Raisa’s room closed. A golden chain sealed the double doors so that no one could enter. Braun had rebuilt the manor exactly as it had been before, right down to the last stone. He had hoped that Lady Lokton would once again be able to find her place there.
Her sorrow had been so great after the death of her husband that nothing he did ever brightened her mood. Hiasyntar’Kulai, the Father of the Ancients, had come mid-way through completion of the rebuilding process. He had taken Lady Lokton with him. The dragon reunited Lady and Lord Lokton on the other side of the rainbow bridge, granting them both a joyous life in Volganor, the Heaven City.
Out of respect, when the manor was completed, Braun had sealed their rebuilt bedchamber. No one would ever be allowed inside, unless Erik Lokton returned and took up his place as the head of House Lokton.
Braun sighed as he thought of Erik. It had been several years since he had seen his young charge. Braun would have gone out into the wilderness to find Erik and join him, except that Lady Lokton had given Braun strict orders to stay with the manor and protect the people that worked and lived on Lokton lands. He turned and walked down the hall.
He stopped suddenly, the hairs on his neck standing on end. He turned and scanned the shadows. There was nothing there but paintings and statues that had been recommissioned after the house had been completed. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched.
*****
Lady Arkyn woke in the early morning hours. The sky outside the cave she slept in was still dark. Clouds covered the moon’s face as a chill wind wafted into the tunnel. She rubbed her arms and grabbed her bow. She couldn’t see anything in the cave, but the years of experience told her she was in danger.
Lady Arkyn tip-toed to the cave’s mouth, and that’s when she saw them.
Skulking, dark forms crawling through the underbrush and up the forested hill toward her cave.
They weren’t guards, she knew that much. City guards would not crawl upon all fours like animals.
She set an arrow to her bowstring and smoothly pulled back. She scanned the forms stalking toward her. She could now see the daggers and curved short swords they held in their hands. Their intentions were clear.
Lady Arkyn fired the first shot.
A woman shrieked as the arrow bit into the back of her neck. She jerked and convulsed, and then went still.
The other forms stood erect and began sprinting as they shouted their war cry.
The elven archer counted forty of them charging in fast. She was good, but even she wasn’t fast enough to stop all of them before they would reach her. She quick-fired three more shots. Three more attackers fell to the ground. Two male, one female.
An arrow zipped by her head and slapped off the stone wall behind her.
That was her cue to turn.
She ran back into the cave, her legs gracefully propelling her forward over the stones on the ground. She stopped twenty yards inside, turned back and fired two more shots. Both arrows struck the same attacker. He fell with a sick thump as others charged in behind him.
In the darkness she had a slight advantage. Her pursuers were human, and their eyes could not find her in the blackness of the cave, but she could easily see them with her elf sight. More than that, the pursuers’ silhouettes were easily visible against the night sky that was framed by the mouth of the cave. Sitting in the dark where she was, even if she had been human she would have seen them well enough to aim her shots. She knelt and fired arrows until her quiver was empty. Eighteen arrows streaked through the tunnel and piled bodies at the mouth of the cave. That made for a total of twenty-three slain. As she had been traveling light, she had no spare quiver to fall back on. The angry, snarling attackers were swarming the mouth of the cave now, obviously realizing that she had no more firepower to send their way.
She was about to turn on her heels and scurry along, when she heard a strange language being chanted at the entrance. It was familiar, somehow. A dark and ancient tongue that brought evil with it. Goosebumps formed along her skin.
A green glow descended upon the fallen like a mist, and then those who had been slain began to stir and rise once more. They pulled the arrows from their bodies and broke the shafts before discarding the pieces along the cave floor.
Lady Arkyn cursed under her breath. “Erik, where are you?”
*****
Braun stepped out into the night and sniffed the air. His muscles were tensing, ready for a fight. He couldn’t see anything around the manor, but he could feel it. Something was there, in the darkness. Blood was going to be spilled.
He fingered the handle of his sword and tugged at it just enough to ensure it would slide smoothly from its sheath. His eyes studied the mist-covered fields and then scanned back toward the barns and stable buildings. The horses were quiet. There was no sign of movement.
The large warrior quietly made his way down the front stairs of the manor and then walked along the perimeter of the building, scanning the bushes and shrubs near the walls for concealed assailants. A less experienced guard might have laughed it off as overactive nerves, or perhaps a simple case of the jitters brought on by being woken from a dream suddenly, but not Braun. There was something unmistakably evil nearby. He hadn’t found it yet, but whatever it was, he was not about to allow Lokton Manor to be attacked again.
“Where are you?” Braun whispered into the night. “Come out and face me.”
The two guards on patrol rounded the western corner of the house and nearly jumped out of their boots when they saw Braun. They snapped to attention real quick, but remained silent in response to him putting a finger to his lips.
“Have you seen anything unusual?” he asked as he approached.
They shook their heads.
“A quiet night,” Arnis said.
“Not a thing out of place,” Remi added.
“I want you to go inside,” Braun ordered. “Remi, you head to the alarm bell. Arnis, you close the front doors, lock them, and alert the others.”
The two of them were fairly new to the estate, but they knew better than to question their commander. They nodded quietly and then hustled their way to the entrance of the manor. Braun watched them to make sure the doors were shut as he asked, and then he made his way for the mist-covered field. He wasn’t able to say why exactly, but he felt drawn to the field.
He nimbly leapt over the stone half-wall and trekked out into the mist. The swirling vapor hugged at his waist, obscuring his view of the grass below. His gut told him that there was an unspeakable evil, so he drew his sword. If he could just find whatever it was that
was disturbing him, he could yell back to the manor. Remi would hear him and sound the alarm. He was sure of it.
He walked far beyond the distance his voice would carry and still found nothing. The pit in his gut grew larger and thicker, threatening to drag him down to the ground, but he ignored it. He was the protector of House Lokton. If there was danger, as he was sure there was, he was not about to turn and run from it now. He walked out past the large graveyard that had been put in after the large battle that had destroyed the manor. The gravestones stood still and silent, their shadows mingling with the mist as he walked by.
Seeing the stones gave him an idea of where to look.
His heart thumped heavily in his chest as he recalled the warlock, Gondok’hr. The fiend was powerful as he was cunning, and had masqueraded as Senator Bracken in order to shore up his power and launch his assault upon the realm. The body of the warlock had not been buried in the cemetery. The marked graves were only for the honorable heroes that had fallen fighting against the evil Gondok’hr stood for.
Gondok’hr had been burned in a pit, and then covered with layers of stone and dirt. Four palo santo trees had been planted in the soil above the grave as well, in an attempt to cleanse the area of the evil ashes that now polluted the ground.
Braun went into the woods, stepping lightly and cautiously. He was incredibly silent, especially for a large man. He neither broke any twigs under foot, nor rustled the undergrowth as he went into the woods. He slithered through the forest like a ghost. He came upon the place of Gondok’hr’s burial and then knelt behind a sizeable boulder as he peered around. A dark figure was hunched over the pit, mumbling something that Braun couldn’t quite understand. Black mist writhed upon the cursed ground, appearing almost like oil.
The figure stopped and stood erect. He turned, but Braun couldn’t see the figure’s face in the darkness. The figure pointed to one of the palo santo trees and an orange spark leapt from his finger and struck the tree. The wood shattered outward and the tree was no more.
